Edition #147: My Rich Life
Plus, how to know what you really want, living out of cars, and a beautifully shot music video
A Note From the Editor
Some of my very best conversations happen in the car. Windows down or up, music off or softly crooning in the background, a single friend in the driver’s seat or a vehicle packed with bodies. Something about the freedom of a long drive makes space for memorable conversation. A similar sort of magic happens on a plane when, with nothing to distract me, I immerse myself in whatever’s playing on my little seatback screen, laughing and crying with reckless abandon. The car ride provides a similar setting: a span of time in which nothing is owed and nothing needs to be accomplished or gained.
Since being back in New York for the past few months, I've accumulated a handful of precious memories all stemming from car ride chats. There was the time three of my friends and I snowballed into a heated rampage against the patriarchy, our energy bubbling and oozing over until we were all shouting, then laughing maniacally. Drive this car to DC, we joked, the girls are pissed! Or just last week, when a friend and I road-tripped all the way from NYC to Atlanta, listening to a cheesy beach read and pausing it every so often to comment about its ridiculousness—a man walks into a restaurant, sees a woman, and is instantly, madly in love. But one of my favorite, most frivolous at first glance car ride conversations happened a month or so back when a friend posed a question to the group: How would you describe your Rich Life?
None of us knew what she meant. My initial interpretation was to describe your ideal life if money wasn't an object—a game that is fun but overplayed. Her question was much more interesting, as it turned out. Living your Rich Life, my friend explained, involved doing/spending money on things that made you feel your best; on those luxuries and habits that you could ostensibly afford that actively brought joy into your life. We had been discussing finances—things were getting grotesquely expensive, we all agreed, and we often felt under some degree of financial strain. Three of the four of us were freelancers and one was about to begin grad school, so our positions of occasional lack weren’t wholly unwarranted, Still, coming from the-car-ran-out-of-gas-and-now-we-have-to-push level of brokeness growing up, I'm weary of claiming lack as an adult when it isn't actually there. Everything is relative, of course, but this conversation happened on a Friday when none of us were working. Instead, we were driving upstate to spend the day at a chic farm. We were not actually broke.
Still, we had all been flirting with the idea of lack, living in mild fear of it. Ruminating over our Rich Lives was entertaining but also enriching, for it made each of us realize that we have a choice in the way we spend our money, and we can choose to spend it in ways that actively bring us joy. We volleyed back and forth about the habits of our Rich Lives—each different, each entertaining. I'm 30 years old, single, and living mostly in New York. Childless, without debt, owning very little except the contents of my apartment, a few surfboards, and a quad in Costa Rica. In this season, my Rich Life entails the following:
Excessive grocery shopping | The grocery store is my happy place. The idea of grocery delivery baffles me, for even though I have to walk my finds up five flights of stairs each and every time I shop, I wouldn’t give up my grocery trips for anything. My Rich Life includes going hard at the grocery store, one of the few places I do not financially restrict myself. A wedge of $12 cashew cheese from the trendy little pop-up shop on the corner? It's going in the cart. An expensive cut of filet mignon when I'm ravenous the week before my period? In. Three different types of non-dairy milk alternatives when my gastro tells me oat milk is killing my stomach? Let’s have a weird milk-tasting party, baby!
Occasional massages | Under any amount of stress, my back holds the tension of a wooden plank. Also, I'm often carrying armfuls of groceries up five flights of stairs, so knots are a normal part of my life. Getting massages somewhat regularly is a luxury I have to remind myself to indulge in, for I've never once gotten a massage and regretted it. I have the world's best masseuse on deck, and she changes less than $50 for an hour of beating. This is a hard, very no-frills massage in a dingy little basement in Nolita, but I don't use JJ because of the price, I use her because to this day, she is the best masseuse I've ever tried. An angel among us.
A snail-paced morning | Perhaps the largest tenant of my Rich Life is owning my time. Not working for anyone means I have to find my own healthcare (supremely anxiety-inducing and pricey) and that I never know what money I'll have coming in (less stressful than it used to be), but it also means my time is fully my own. This, I've learned, is worth more to me than any amount of corporate-enabled security. One of my favorite ways to luxuriate in my own time is with a hyper-slowed-down morning routine. It is neither particularly productive nor useful. I wake up far later than I used to—sometimes 8:30—and drink a huge jug of water. I ice my face, slather on my skincare, and set up my French press. While that's brewing, I'll do a little stretch. My coffee is brought into my bedroom, where I sit on the floor with two journals and two books. I sip my coffee, read a few poems, then read whatever other morning-appropriate book I've got on hand—something like this or this—jotting down little snippets that come to mind as I go. Afterwards, I'll write in my journal. Pending what's going on in my life, this might be a 2-page entry or 15 pages, but I actively work to not stress about the time it's taking to write. All of this means I don't get to my real work, whether it's a paid assignment or working on a script for myself, until 11 am or later. And guess what? I don't mind at all!
Being a generous host | My Rich Life includes hosting people I love. Be it a new job, a vague holiday, or just a slow Sunday, I love having an excuse to gather a group of friends in my little apartment. I want to wow them each time—everyone should leave physically satiated, a bit tipsy (if they feel like it), and intellectually stimulated. I like making long grocery lists, putting out too many appetizers, and then cooking an elaborate meal that will inevitably stress me out a little but always be worth it. While eating or after, I often attempt to direct the conversation in some sort of way. At the Easter dinner, I hosted this year, a friend and I wrote funny little questions and popped them into plastic eggs. We passed around the egg bowl after dinner, and each attendee had to answer the question they chose. It was cute, it was funny, it was fun.
Many trips to the bookstore | I will never give up my habit of reading physical books. While I deeply appreciate the library as a workspace, I am not willing to put my name on a long waiting list to read something I'm dying to get my hands on. My Rich Life is deeply intertwined with my local bookstore, where I go at least once a month and spend about $50-$75 on books. I take my time reading inside cover after inside cover, choosing a novel or a collection of poems, and occasionally buying a cute new notebook.
Seasonally-appropriate bedding | I love bedtime. I also love sleeping in arctic temperatures, for my natural state is that of a furnace. Having two sets of bedding—a summer quilt, light and airy, and a winter duvet, fluffy and luxe, is my Rich Life incarnate.
Never skimping on skincare | My rich life includes pursuing a youthful, dewy exuberance. Are these products necessary, or simply a trick of capitalism? I can't say for sure, but I'm not willing to find out. My skincare routine isn't crazy complex but has been curated over the years to fit my somewhat dry, sun-sensitive skin. I've always removed my makeup with this, a trick learned from my late grandmother who had hardly a wrinkle on her sweet face. In the mornings, I rinse my face with just water, then a few pumps of this, then vitamin C, hyaluronic acid, and my trusty Olay. At night, I double cleanse—shoutout to my friend Izzy for this tip—first using an oil-based cleaner, then water-based Cetaphil. Every other night it's retinol, followed by my favorite thick moisturizer. When I'm dry, I'll slick my face like a little seal with this oil. My Rich Life includes purchasing every single one of these products without abandon and not guilting myself when I was to try something new for my skin.
Month-long travel | I assume everyone's Rich Life involves some degree of travel, even if it's a simple staycation or a trip to your favorite tried and true spot. My Rich Life is no different, but it specifically includes traveling My Special Way. Over the years of exploring, I've learned that I prefer to travel for one full month at a time. Because of my flexible schedule, trips aren't always used as a relaxing escape from life, but more as a gateway into another type of life. I pretend to be a local, get myself into a routine, and see what other aspects of self-reveal float to the surface in my new setting. I like to do this alone or with a close friend or two whom I know I travel well with, but never with a large group.
Cheers, my dears, and as always, thanks for reading. Have a lovely weekend—I’ll be spending mine catching up with friends and preparing for another month-long escapade. Live your Rich Life this weekend. Go to the bookstore! Grocery shop like a gourmet chef! Get a massage!
Three Pieces of Content Worth Consuming
How To Know What You Really Want. I initially shared this piece a year or so ago. Recently, a friend referenced it at our monthly book club, citing what a profound impact it had on her, so figured it was worth recirculating. Mimetic desire explains why so many people end up living a life that doesn’t fulfill them, pursuing certain careers, or making major choices that aren’t aligned with the things they really want. If you read this one and like it, I’d suggest following up with this quiz and then reading more on Valuism, a philosophy that acts as the inverse of living a life of mimetic desire.
A Memory of Us (A Poem). This poem is beautiful and approachable, romantic and platonic. I discovered it in my Poem of the Day email and I’ve returned to it many times since. It evokes images of summertime, girlhood, and desires unnamed. Simply wonderful.
Living Out of a Vehicle in Pictures. Van life has had something of a renaissance in the era of social media—a cute girl buys a crusty old van, renovates it, and travels all over. I liked this photo essay because the images are beautifully done but also, because it gives credence to the other, less glamorized versions of this nomadic lifestyle: people struggling to keep up with the rising costs of life or people who choose to exist just outside of the typical folds of society. Worth checking out.
Perhaps You Should…Watch This Music Video
Reggie is one of my favorite new artists. His lyrics are poetry, his voice is distinct—I’m a huge fan. I woke up the other day with this song of his in my head, and then I decided to see if there was a music video for it yet. There is, and it's pure art.
**Bonus Content** (Barbies I Wish Existed Growing Up)
I don’t know about you, but I’m living for this Barbie frenzy. There’s something sweet about a broad, non-political cultural moment these days! This piece from the New Yorker humor section had me chuckling.
A Quote From A Book You Should Read:
“And likewise I was beginning to see my own fears and desires manifested outside myself, was beginning to see in other people's lives a commentary on my own.”
-Outline by Rachel Cusk
This newsletter is best served with a side of conversation, so drop your opinions, reflections, and thoughts in the comments below and let’s get to talking.
Or, share the most thought-provoking piece from today’s edition with someone you love, then call them up to discuss, debate, and percolate. As a wise woman once said, “Great minds discuss ideas.